It was quiet in the woods that night; quiet but for the rain pouring down in a cascade of chilling water. You'd think it was any other town; but the gnome scuttling by muttering to himself assures you that this is it. You sniff the air animalistically; identifying several scents that are common in the American Northwest: bear, pine sap, Bigfoot.
And of course the metallic tang of your own blood leaking out of you.
You look to your side to inspect your wound; a trio of vicious-looking scars have exposed your inner muscle and sinew to the pouring rain, and to the mud congealing underneath your feet. You look around frantically, searching for a place to rest, to shield you from the rain so your wounds can heal. You catch site of cave not far from your position; and so, with your side erupting in agonizing pain, you make your way to it.
It isn't often that you ask the Creator for help; not because you don't believe he will, you just never needed to. But right now, this moment,...you turn your head to the sky, and beg Adonai for a miracle...
